


Colliding Kismet

by JotDown



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: All The Ships, All the characters When a oneshot writer tries chapter stories A/U Satan’s parenting vs Shiro’s, Angels, Demons, F/M, Female Okumura Rin, Gen, Half-demon children are the best, Original Character(s), all the characters - Freeform, all the things, ongoing tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-03-24 02:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JotDown/pseuds/JotDown
Summary: Sin begot sin, straight down from the original. The fires of Heaven and Hell, Assiah and Gehenna, wreath the mortal plane. Wretched are those blessed of both worlds, for they shall be inheritor of all, and of nothing. AU. Chapter story. Drama/Suspense/Family. Update note as of 03/27/18. Originally posted and ongoing at fanfiction.net since 01/31/2018





	1. Muliebrous

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all thanks and credit to the talented, Kazue Katō.

**Update note: 03/27/18 I went back through the first few chapters and touched up a few things. Editing isn't really my favorite thing, but I thought it would be a good idea since I don't have a beta. It gave me a new perspective, I think. I’ve been so focused on this story I’m dreaming up scenes, ha. Anyhoo, it may be a slow burn, but I’m excited to see how this turns out. Enjoy, as always, Ja ne!**

/

_And suffer unto the Mother the pains of childbirth, Oh Lord. Ye who hear the anguish of Her rising voice, rejoice! As the Innocents be like Lambs, brought forth into this Earthly plane. She who welcomes new life, may Her suffering be in accordance to all females of Her kin, before and after. She that first descended mankind into Sin has set Her feet upon this path. May Her steps be sure and unafraid; for alas, alas—if She stumbles, She will surely fall and die._

/

_Agony._

_Anguish._

_Alone._

     Half-screaming, half-moaning, Yuri Egin felt the pressure on her pelvis and knew, _knew_ something was very wrong. She was going to **_die_**. The forbidding knowledge did nothing to stop the screech from rattling her clenching teeth as she screamed again.

_It hurts so fucking much!_

She gasped, raising her sweaty head slightly. Glancing down through half-lidded teal blue eyes, _I don't want my baby to die._

Her eyes closed as tears of grief trickled down. _I don't want to die_.

 The pain was exploding and electrifying—an eternal moment. Tingled away, even as another wave rose again. She could taste blood coating her tongue—the inner walls of her mouth. Bile rose, unbidden.

She reflexively swallowed down the nausea; felt even as it congealed into slimy clots against the roof of her mouth. She had nearly pierced her tongue in two.

_I cannot bare this alone._

Her smile was bitter. Her smile was heartbreaking. Dare she pray to the God of Assiah? Even as she struggled to bring the child of Satan into His world?

She found she did dare, her teeth ground against the agony—

_If it means this…no. No! I cannot accept my child’s life means nothing! Damn their scriptures. Damn their bible. Fuck the non-bearing men who wrote them! I'll scream at God until I'm dead in the ground!_

Her body bowed upwards as she clutched the sheets, shredding them. Pain, white-hot, seared through her veins; scorched her from the inside out.

 _Father!_ she howled, _I will bare this pain, Your wrath. If it is Your Will, then sunder my soul and wipe me from existence! I will happily go into the void. Your bidding and Will are all I seek._ Her vision tunneled as she went blind, _but I beseech You, do not cast my child alongside me. It is true, I labor to bring the spawn of Satan into Your world, but they are also of You! Am I not Your daughter? A child of man? Do I not meet the debt of Eve even as I lay here dying? Will You not show Your mercy?_

As her vision faded, her mouth opened of its own accord, and a blood-curling scream was forced forth. Raw and strained; a sound incapable of human vocal cords, yet still it came.

_Otherworldly, it shot and pierced across dimensions._

The daughter of man who willingly bared the devil a child reared up—snarling, like a wild thing. Her eyes unseeing, shining with an unholy blue fire. Blind to all before her, she bellowed her injustice.

_Someone…anyone…fucking help me! I will go into the void like a woman gone mad! All of existence will hear my despair! I fucking swear it!_

/

     For the first time in millennia, the realm of Gehenna paused. Nothing moved. Neither demon lord nor crawling, formless thing stirred. In the halls of his castle, in the darkest depths of the damned and despairing; the Demon of demons sat upon his throne, mouth set, and fangs bared. His _terrible_ , _terrible_ eyes, pin-wheeled into unyielding sapphire arcs; stared beyond the circle of his gathered princes. Events most terrible were unfolding, and he alone was privy to their wretched visage.

When the first cries of her labor had rung out into the Gehennian air, he had been momentarily stunned. And then it was followed by another. And another. When, at last, her pleading and demanding accusations to God had reached his pointed ears, something in him had cracked. His resolute control fractured, and in the depths of his self, _his fire_ ** _burned_**. Bright and blue, a twisted mockery of God's holy light. They flared up in his agitation.

_I cannot go back to her so soon._

He had expended everything within his ability to save the human woman who had freely shared her body with him. Pulling her from the flaming pyre, even as his flames passed judgement on those who stood against her. May they burn in his fire forever.

The bloodlust was returning. The urge to murder rose in him like a plague. As the fate of his human woman and child hung in the air, his flames circled his throne room and spread to the outer walls, scorching towards the gaseous purple twilight of Gehenna's fading day. The unfortunate creatures of his domain writhed in agony as they were burning. Even those not in the inner walls of Bedlam fell to the ground—their cries for mercy the great wail of a wretched nation. As he suffered, they would also suffer. He, their king. They, his minions and underlings. Dancing goblins, proclaiming their allegiance. In return for his legendary strength, the iron-clad will unifying them, the God of Gehenna would see them all **_burn_**.

_So, give me everything, my people. Shake the foundation. Burn God’s ears with your cries!_

" _Mercy! Mercy_! Lord Satan! We will go! We will burn the Earth in your name! If you would only spare—"

With a snap of his left hand, those who begged were further incinerated. Their supplication fell on pitiless ears, for what demon knew the true meaning of mercy? Chose breath over pride?  Their cries were nothing compared to hers—no voice rose above others like _hers_.

_I find no joy in her pain. No sadistic pleasure. I would have her live..._

Only those of his blood were spared. His sons, wisely silent, as they too were wrapped in the flames they were denied at birth.

_I will make all Assiah, suffer. I will destroy each and every living thing. There will be not even ash when I am finished!_

Whether the God of Gehenna could know sorrow had never been pondered. His ruthlessness unmatched; and had, from since before the Fall, been something of a legend. But if someone—someone like Yuri had been able to look upon him truly, she would have likened his rage to that of the saddest heartbreak.

Could the Devil despair? Perhaps.

_And she would have wept, even as he roared his fury._

_/_

     Yuri had been rendered unconscious, but still the contractions came, now two minutes apart. Her breath was ragged; her body so _close_ to giving in.

A bright light filled the room, and then—

"This is quite the sight isn't it? So, _you_ are the ear sore who has been doing all that screaming. What noisy things human women still are!" A feral grin, "Now, how shall this play out, I wonder? Surely you know you are center stage? In the spotlight of His attention. What shall they become? And can you, dressed in measly human flesh, pay the price for _my_ favor?"

Yuri stirred as a gentle hand, at odds with mockingly prophetic words, touched glowing fingers to her stomach.


	2. Boon

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all credit and thanks to the talented Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: Wow, you guys…thank you so much for reviewing on my other stories. I’ll say thank you each time I update, but I’ll never be able to truly convey it. Anyways, before I start tearing up in public, here is the second chapter, I hope you enjoy. And uh, this isn’t what I originally wrote out on paper, well, the majority isn’t. But isn’t that how writing always goes. To start—but never end up where we think we will (boy, it hasn’t hit me yet either that I just had a major character change, you’ll see below). Ja ne!

/

_Where?_

_Where am I?_

     Yuri couldn't feel her body or the crippling pain. She recognized absence of breath yet could still imagine the shaky relief escaping past her lips. Could imagine the slow flutter of her eyelids opening; but she knew she was deaf and blind. Could imagine the dance of a small foot against—

_Oh, that's right. My baby is coming, or… did it already go? Are we both dead?_

She had only been a mother for a few minutes, or maybe she had been a mother for an eternity? She did not know how long she had been here, in this place—absent of light and shadow. Is this where God's mistakes are sent? Doomed and blessed; retaining their sense of self but forever floating in emptiness.

_Is this how it was before the before? Was this… what God experienced?_

_How lonely..._

_I am not afraid. I feel no concern, but I should. What happened to my child? Can I really allow it to be just this?_ Injustice, alien and human, begin to seep into her.

_No…no…no!_

As humans go—they are notoriously stubborn creatures. Fleeting; but enduring. Consistent; but capricious. Adaptable. Given the choice of free will by their creator, they choose withering or flourishing. Capable of creating life themselves, yet unable to always see the wonder of their own progeny. Fickle and faithful.

Forcing it into being from her imaginings, Yuri pulled a breath in and pushed it out. Slowly, light and shadow crept into her suddenly present eyelids. And then she was opening her mouth—raging, screaming, crying—

"NO!"

Bucking against the thick air which held her, she gasped as her eyes tried to come into focus. Her eyes were open, she was standing on her own two feet, but where? What was this? Where was her child?

"Well, it took you long enough, didn’t it? I thought you would never make a choice." The voice was too loud and too quiet. Unable to echo; traveling straight through her flesh and piercing her soul.

"Who—" A hand appeared waving her question away.

"Does it really matter? I am afraid we only have a short time together, you and I, new mother. Besides, are you not curious about your children?"

Yuri could see the female figure abruptly. Her sight and hearing returned in a flood of technicolor and surround-sound. She heaved as she collapsed to her knees. The woman, modeled in the beauty of the earliest of times, voluptuous and full-bodied with cascading dark ringlets, remained unaffected.

“ _Child_ … _children_?!”

“ _Oh yes_ , quite a doozy of a plot twist there. Satan has twins, isn't that precious? The old goat will be pleased to learn he finished off his brat production with a nice even number." A sneer adorned the woman's beautiful face, "If he accepts two half-breeds into his meticulously crafted Baal, that is.”

Yuri blinked, and slowly rose again, accepting the statement for what it was, “ _Where_ are my children?”

A slow blink, as if caught off guard, "How surprising, I usually never get off topic. They are right there, in your very own arms silly."

And they _were_.

Marveling at their sudden weight, Yuri blinked in astonishment. Male…and female. Tufts of dark hair adorned both of their small heads. Both had the pale skin of their father and the hazy blue eyes of newborns. In that way that mothers do, she instinctively knew that her girl's eyes had the potential to darken to the breathtaking sapphire of her sire. Whereas her boy, her bones told her, would have her eyes. He already had the faint beginnings of her moles after all.

One side of her mouth lifted softly, "Poor boy, he has my markings."

A slight nod, "Yes, and how fitting the girl, the only female of Satan's line, would be his very spitting image. You’ve managed quite well, considering. Have you not yet noticed the biggest difference beyond their genders?"

Yuri looked up, "Oh, I suppose so. But then again, they have accompanied me for so long now, I guess it escaped me."

A bark of laughter had the twins shifting restlessly in their mother's arms.

"Only the true mate of that _bastard_ could say something so nonchalantly. Are you not afraid for the girl?"

Yuri, eyebrows twitching at the insult, offered a wary smile, "I wish I could be there to help her and guide her. It doesn't seem fair that she should inherit the flames alone."

"It will not be fair because it is not meant to be. Never has there been such a creature as her. The path before her has never been walked. Even beings such as _I_ do not know the outcome. It is a wonder she did not die in your womb, or the moment I pulled them from it."

The being shook her head ruefully.

"I am sorry, I seem to have gotten sidetracked again. Our time is almost up, and I haven't even gotten to the point. You, Yuri Egin, have caused quite the racket both up and down stairs. Many humans died just a few scant hours ago. The majority being your own kin, the Exorcists, during Satan's temper-tantrum. He put you and the lives of your babies before hundreds when he pulled you from what was to be your funeral pyre."

Yuri’s returned gaze was wistful, aching, "It is almost too much for me,” she confessed, “to consider the lives destroyed and the families that will be left broken. I know…and I…I regret that. _I do._ ” Her eyes hardened, even as tears spilled over, “But without his actions, our children would have been burnt along with me. I _cannot_ hate him for saving their lives. How can I judge his actions when I know I would have done _anything_ to protect them?”

The apparition angled her head, as if seeing Yuri in a new light. A brief, almost begrudging, respect flashing through her eyes. A knowing look, its recognition bittersweet, "I see you mortals still enjoy free speech. You are most welcome for that, by the way. Ah well, moving on from that moral debate; let's just say, a few of us floating in between Assiah and Gehenna heard your colorful bargaining with Him—"

"And?"

"— _and_ it caught our attention. Of course, we can do nothing without His say so, but here I am, so—"

" _Please_ , tell me, what is it you are offering?" Yuri growled, surprised at her own daring. For some reason, her whole body was suddenly shaking in fear. Foreboding terror washed over her.

A wicked smile, revealed too large teeth in the creature's mouth.

"Ah, now **_there_** is the root of the matter isn't it? It isn't so much as an offer per say, but more of a means to an end."

Grimacing, she dared forward, “Of?”

The creature moved closer, circled—considering.

"A boon in return for your acquiescence."

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I will leave them untouched. But it is _you_ who will leave them unprotected. Either way, they will never be allowed to live. Your Vatican will surely see to that.”

Suddenly only inches away, the woman studied the twins. Eyes downcast, she slowly raised them to stare into Yuri's demanding aquamarine orbs. Yuri's breath halted and caught in her throat. The woman's eyes spun in an unending spiral, flecks of the purest blues and golds. Green sparkled, and…

Fingers snapped gently, breaking the trance, "Apologies, it has been _many_ years since I last walked beside a human. I forget the affect I have on mortals."

“You speak as if you know what it is to be like us."

For the first time, a sincere smile appeared, "Yes, you could say that at one time I walked on the same plane as you. But…" a bemused snarl curled her mouth, "…I was not known for being especially good at _subservience_ ** _._** I suppose my children weren’t either with the example I set."

A phantom pain shuddered through Yuri. She gasped, looking up into the woman's eyes.

The ghost of a pitying smile. Inhaling quietly through her nose, the creature regarded Yuri.

"It is time, Yuri Egin. I offer this to your children: a chance to control their own fates. But it is not a favor; do not mistake it as one. It will be a perilously hard life. They may not survive."

Yuri considered the creature. "And the requirements?"

Her smile turning sly, she blinked innocently, "Oh, nothing much, I just ask for your consent for me to move freely. Especially regarding your little girl-child. For the first few years of her life, she will grow alongside her fraternal twin as a regular human child. However, even I cannot prevent the awakening of her divine flames completely. I can only put them to sleep for a bit."

Yuri frowned, "Surely her father…"

A sharp look stopped her. "Come, daughter of man, you must know he will not be allowed access so easily."

The woman fell silent as Yuri blinked suddenly, trying to clear her vision. Everything was starting to grow fuzzy.

“I suppose not." Her eyes closed briefly, finding breathing increasingly difficult.

"You have not had an easy life, daughter, have you?” Whispering, now an echoing hiss, “But _whose_ daughter? Are you of _her_ , or of _me_?” Tenderly, a hand ran through her hair, “I guess that is a matter for another day."

The woman was beginning to fade, but Yuri's eyes saw the blurry outline of her hand falling to caress each of her children's heads.

"Have you named them." As if she knew already.

"Rin," gasping, "and Yukio."

The unnamed woman didn’t reply. Waiting.

Despite the finality she sensed, Yuri hesitated. There was something pushing her, something greater and grander than herself; an alluring pull to give in and _trust_.

Yuri’s heart ached, _I am so sorry, Satan. I feel like I am betraying you, but I don’t know what else to do. I wish…I wish I could see you, just one more time. I am being selfish, but…_ Her arms quivered, tightening around her babies, _…just once, I wish I had known your true touch. To hold you for real. To look into your eyes and tell you—_ She shook her head sharply, forcing herself to quit. She didn’t have time to give to regret.

Crying aqua blues, alive with grief, opened. She stared back, unseeing. Her voice was quiet with pain as she spoke, “I accept.”

Her eyes remained gentle, even as they narrowed slightly in victory, not that Yuri could see them. A one-sided smirk curling her lips, a hair’s breath from feral.

The woman's right hand remained on Yukio's head. Her left dropping down to Rin's little soft arm. A gentle golden glow emitted, encompassing the sleeping baby. As it faded, a tiny spider-webbing pattern remained where arm met shoulder. An unimpressive mark Yuri’s failing eyes could not study.

Her voice deepened, as if cementing their fates with her own destiny. Unbreakable and life-changing. A prophesy.

"A demon masking as a human. A human with a demon trapped inside. Two sides of a coin. I grant thee my boon. To thy children, my word of promise is absolute. It is done between us and cannot be unmade until both sides are satisfied." A somewhat mischievous afterthought was crooned, "May the demons who encounter her be made fools.” Her tone turning inward, as if forgetting she wasn’t alone, “May they correct the injustices of long ago.”

The woman's hand traveled up to caress Yuri's cheeks. Eyes remaining closed as she and the children were fading rapidly, "You are trusting, daughter. I am afraid you will not be able to see the foundation of my stipulations, but as an award for your obedience, I will set them out clearly. At least for _him_.” Light disgust coloring her words, “As tragically male as he appears to be, it seems only _he_ will do."

With that the woman was gone, and she was dropping back down; the weight of her children the only thing keeping Yuri's whirling mind grounded. She managed to cry out one last question, "…And me? Where am I to go?"

Faintly, "It will not be that easy for you. You will not be able to simply go to your lover when you die. I can't guarantee you will ever see him again. Much must come to pass. Rest assured in this—You go now to rest. I will rock your spirit. Goodbye, child. At least for now, show a bit of the blind faith your kind is so renowned for."

_Goodbye…_

_Goodbye._

_/_

     Achingly cold air brushed against Yuri's body, flowing over it. She felt consumed as the December air reminded her of her humanity. Her eyes cracked open and her sight was filled with the brightness of blood. She and the children were covered. Miraculously, there was no sign of her innards. In the distance, she heard a familiar gruff voice. Another voice, also familiar, goading his response.

_Shiro. Mephisto._

 She smiled even as tears gathered. So then, is it time already?

She was so weak, but as the voices grew closer, along with a familiarly distasteful smell, she managed to gather enough wits to threaten.

"Fujimoto Shiro, if you don't fucking put out that cigarette, I will gut you like a fish! I don't want them around your filthy habit!"

His voice, closer now, was irritated as he griped back, "Christ’s name, Yuri! I’m only here for _two minutes_ and you’re already giving me hell—”

Her sharp yip of pain cut off his words. Finally ducking past stone and rock, he stepped inside. All annoyance vanishing instantly as his eyes took in her condition. Sir Pheles paused at the entrance—A solemn, slightly troubled, look on his face.

 _“Yuri? Fuck_ , _Yuri_!!! What in God's—"

She waved her arm weakly, "Shiro, I don't have long. _Please_ , I—" she coughed and dark congealing blood flew from her mouth, "I must speak with you, quickly."

Shiro, worn and weary, hurriedly stepped closer. Dressed, as diligently as ever, in the attire of the Exorcist.

 _A heavy mantle isn’t it, brother-of-my heart._ She mused bitterly. _You always were the Exorcist I could never truly be._

Shaking her head, Yuri beckoned him closer as her vision wavered, " _Come_ , Shiro."

_I am sorry, old friend, to ask you to bare this burden. I have failed, but I made a deal, and I can only trust you to see it through._

Tears filled her vision as grief—sudden and ancient and consuming, spilled from her eyes. Her eyes sparkling like diamonds as Shiro was frozen at the twisted beauty of her.

"I am so happy you came Shiro. I was _afraid_ —” She choked on a shuddering gasp, “…I thought I would be alone...the baby! Please," she sobbed, half out of her mind as her world continued to darken, "... _please_ Shiro, you must take them. I know it was you who She chose, the boon—"

Suddenly, she was surrounded completely in the comforting and tobacco-laced scent of Shiro. Calmness, even as she lay dying returned somewhat. She tried to draw breath into her failing lungs, but they were so _tired_. She was so _tired_.

With the last of her strength, she grasped Shiro's jacket, and pulled him close. Her eyes impossibly large and wild, unseeing. The teal blue of them staring beseechingly into Shiro's own fearful eyes.

" _Protect them_."

The darkness raised up to meet her, threatening at any moment to swallow her. The last thing she felt was the weight of her children. Heard their cries—the smell, that damn smell, of tar and tobacco, oddly right in her last dying moment.

The sight would haunt Shiro for the rest of his days. Each time he heard the wind, he would compare it to that dark December day. The day that Yuri Egin's soul left Assiah.

" _Yuri! No_ , _goddamn it_ — _no!"_

But nothing would haunt him more than her final whisper—

"Protect them Shiro, I am…so _sorry_. I love you, dear brother."

Somewhere, the mourning wail of a wolf rose. The haunting vocals spanned the distance wrapping and warbling around the shrieks of wailing newborns. The cacophonous tide crashed over Shiro's bent frame as even he succumbed to his grief and tears.

_Yuri…_


	3. Allowance

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all credit goes to the talented Kazue Katō.

/

     Agitated hands, feeling too large and clumsy, attempted to light a cigarette for the third time. Only after inadvertently crushing it, _damnit not again_ —did he allow it to drop to the snow-covered ground.

Eyes narrowing in disgust at the growing pile of unlit cigarettes—

 _More of my pay fuckin' wasted_ he glowered, unnoticing his own tremulous hand as it raked through his spiky silver hair. His eyes closed behind the sudden heaviness of his glasses. The attached rosaries—swinging, wretchedness and building nausea coating his mouth in thick ropes of saliva.

The sharp scent of pine, and the icy bite of December air as he dragged it shallowly through his nostrils—the unrelenting wail of newborns at his back. He could, even now, feel the yawning darkness behind him. The cavernous abyss loomed a dark reminder of unfinished business. He hadn't realized how abruptly he had turned and run from it the moment… _the very moment_ …

His eyes wrenched tighter. Blooming oscillating lights appeared from the strain, they bounced and vibrated in geometric flashes. As if from a great distance away, he could hear his own heart pounding against his ribcage, the palpable tang of salty sweat as it slid down his face, lingering in the corners of his mouth.

His tongue darted out—tasting terror and nerves.

_I am so afraid I can barely move. My heart, my God…my God… I have never felt…. Yuri…_

Eyes squeezed painfully against the sting of saltwater.

 _Why?_ _Yuri…you are…you are…_

Fujimoto Shiro pulled from the vast reserves of his iron-clad will. His stubborn resolve, infamous among humans and even demons, unbent his folded frame—forcing away the lingering panic attack. He rose to his full height, finally opening his stinging eyes; turning back to the awaiting darkness. He forced chilly oxygen through his burning nostrils as he regarded the entrance wearily.

A step; then another.

 _For Yuri_.

 A final, jerking, spasm rattled the structure of his body. Eyes narrowing, he forced the rising bile back down into the depths of his gullet.

Resolution.

Slowly, steadily, he walked the short distance back into the heart of the stone. His unusually silent companion stood tall in the backdrop of the fading light. Head tilting, he regarded the red-faced and gasping infant with something akin to bewilderment. As if he did not know whether to be amused or repulsed at the screeching, blood-soaked infant flailing in Yuri's limp right arm. The other child had fallen silent. Weirdly, Mephisto paid no mind to that one.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Shiro came to stand just behind the Demon King.

Slowly, his head turning towards Shiro, mouth quirking up in a more fitting smirk, "Ah, I was wondering when you would return. I've never known you to flee from death before, but…given the circumstances…” He once more regarded Yuri's corpse, right hand positioned behind his back in a show of nonchalance. He shook his head, "Ah—well, it is past time, will you not slay the child of Satan now that it lies defenseless in its dead mother's arms?" His left arm raised with his words.

A snap of courtly, glove-covered fingers, and the famed Kurikara sword appeared. Also known as the Kouma sword—a Kōmaken blade. The very sword he had stolen from those self-righteous Buddhists of the Myōō Dharani sect for exactly this purpose. Glinting, the metal flashed, hovering towards Shiro. Before he knew it, he reached out and took the deadly blade into his numb right hand—fingers clutching almost desperately around the sheathed sword.

He paused, then adjusted his sweaty grasp on the blade with two hands. He blinked, turning his full attention on each of the children. His eyes widened and then narrowed, just now fully comprehending Mephisto's words.

_Just one? Why does he not acknowledge the other child?_

Just as he opened his mouth to question his friend, darkness seemed to swallow the remaining light in the cave. Mephisto was suddenly too close, hovering. His darting green eyes were suspicious, and did nothing to help Shiro's ever present anxiety.

" _Shiro_ ," hissing, " _hurry up_ , this place is giving me the creeps." If not for the gathering darkness in the corner, directly to the left of Yuri's body and the babies, Shiro would have gawked at the uneasiness in his old friend's voice.

A dark, shadow-covered shape, stepped from the darkness. Feminine curves, reminiscent of antiquity, were undeniable even in the formless robes the entity wore. A hooded face—

 _The damn thing is smirking, I can feel it_. And a pale arm rose slowly, pressing a mocking finger to hidden lips—and then—it was gone.

_What. The. Fuck?_

The whole thing had only lasted a moment, but Shiro's hackles—and more alarmingly—that of _Mephisto's—a freaking Demon King_ , were also raised.

Shiro blinked in astonishment. He had gotten the message.

He couldn’t see the other baby…or that wraith. Only the forbiddingness in the air.

_What in Assiah is going on?_

A chill ran down his spine. _Who can escape the eyes of a Demon King by choice? What is that creature?_

Shiro felt the laughter rise unbidden. The cackling, throaty laugh—tinged with sorrow and a bit of insanity—reverberated off the stone.

Mephisto eyed his giggling fellow Exorcist with a raised eyebrow. _Perhaps_ , _I've underestimated my favorite human_. _Even he, it seems, can only handle so much_.

But then—as usual, Fujimoto Shiro acted against the grain. Tucking the sword into his belt under the mantle of his Exorcist's robes, he rounded to face Mephisto.

Wiping his eyes, the Exorcist spoke, a bit breathless, "No...no…just _no_. I…I will take the—fuck, _him_. I will take the boy."

It was Mephisto's turn to laugh, "Are you serious?! To do what with, may I ask?"

Shiro didn't answer at first, only speaking once he had gathered the still whimpering babe up into his arms. Trying not to focus on the blood staining his fingers, as much of the dark liquid was Yuri's, he smoothed a hand over the child's head. Puffy red eyes finally closed, as the child heaved one final exhausted sigh—finally settling as he was given the attention he had been demanding.

"To raise a fine human boy—one day a man. He is human, ain't he?"

Mouth twisted in both a frown and a considering leer, the leader of the Japanese branch pressed closer to the sleeping baby. "Yes, yes, for all points and purposes. I cannot sense any demonic powers in him, _yet_. But surely, you realize if he somehow did manifest—"

Shiro waved his hand dismissively, "I've made up my mind. Let's go, Mephy, like you said, this place is giving me the creeps."

Huffing in amusement at his stubbornness, Mephisto acquiesced, “Very well, Shiro. Have it your way. I have the mother's body, at least I can make my report to the Vatican.” His smile was tempting, “What do you say we place a wager before we go?"

Sighing, Shiro shook his head, "Always a gamble for you demons. Whatever, send me the memo. I'm sure I'll regret it later, but you can give me the details another time, as long as we can leave this place. I agree in full to your terms."

Covering his face in delight, the demon crowed, "How…ambiguous! Very well, Shiro, my dear. I will surely do so."

Snapping his fingers in finality, Mephisto made to lift Yuri's body with his magic, but stopped at Shiro's sudden cry.

Blinking, "What now?"

"Just wait, will ya?" Shiro walked forward, peering at the still silent baby. He carefully lifted the child into his left arm, balancing their combined weight.

"All that fuss over a scrap of fabric?"

Shiro peered down at the newly awakened baby. The child smiled and cooed up at him. Heart turning over funnily, Shiro slowly smiled in return, "Some scraps are worth saving, Mephy."

Rolling his eyes, Mephisto turned away, heading for the entrance, "Humans and their sentimentality."

Rolling his own in return, Shiro bent down and placed a quick, solemn kiss to Yuri's cooling forehead.

 _Goodbye, my friend_.

Straightening, Shiro turned, following after the disappearing demon.

"Getting crotchety in your old age, ne, Mephy?" Slightly put off by the demon-esque smirk from his human, Mephisto scoffed.

 _As if_.

The final answering snap of elegant fingers was all that was given to the grinning Exorcist; as he and the Demon King, along with two new little lives, disappeared.

Then, Yuri's body vanished too—a dramatic flair of purple glitter raining down.

/

     After an exhausting trek to the monastery, and bidding goodbye to Mephisto, Shiro breathed a sigh of relief as he collapsed into the church hall of the inner sanctuary. He sat in the darkness a bit overwhelmed by the gravity of his decision.

 _What in the hell have I gotten myself into?_ He could just imagine Mephisto's wagging finger, _Gehenna, Shiro dear, Gehenna_! He shook his head ruefully, _I'm losing it_.

The larger of the twins still slept peacefully, so he peeled back the blanket of the smaller, more unusual, one.

Blanching, he promptly shit a brick.

" _A girl_?!" he hissed aghast, "Oh no, no, _no_!"

The naked little girl gurgled happily in his lap as he cradled his head in his hands despairingly.

_What am I doing?!_

"Quite the surprise, ne, Fujimoto?" a soft voice drawled mockingly.

Immediately on his feet—gun drawn, with precious cargo at his back, he faced the being from earlier. The creature stood a few scant meters from him, considering the weapon in his hand with a bored head tilt.

"Now, now, boy, no need for all that." A placating hand rose, "Besides, do you think it would really do you any good against one such as me?"

He spared a glance at the defenseless babies behind him, then lowered it cautiously, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Shaking her head, as if weary of the question, "Really, now. What is with the concern for that, today? If you _must_ know—" she made a slow circle around him, "I go by quite a few names—though I suppose in _your kind's_ records, I am most famous as a _night monster_." Her mouth parted in a bloodthirsty smile, "Some human myths label me as a plague to laboring mothers—a **_child eater_** , even. Quite ghastly, no?"

Shiro paled at the revelation. If that was true…then…this being was…was…

He cast another despairing glance behind him. Why was _she_ here?

As pointless as it was, he adjusted his stance. If only he hadn't relaxed so quickly…

The ancient _thing_ smiled in amusement at his unease. "Oh, **_please_** , if I had wanted to I would have already devoured them—" a warning lilt honeyed her words, "…and _you_ , more importantly Exorcist. So, quit acting so guarded," she sniffed delicately, "it annoys and offends me."

His gun clattered to the floor, and Shiro collapsed onto the bench he had previously occupied. He gathered the whimpering babies into his arms, reminded of how badly they needed bathing—how badly he needed one himself.

"What, in the name of Assiah, could you possibly _want_ with them?" _And me_.

Grinning, the woman was suddenly before him, crouching—

His mouth parted in wonder as he stared into her swirling eyes, thick eyelashes beckoning sweetly.

"Glad you asked, friend of Yuri Egin, got a few moments to _chat_?"

Gulping, Shiro swallowed nervously, hands twitching. He already missed the comforting grip of his gun. He nodded.

"Good boy," she purred. " _Now_ …"

/

     In the depths, the God of Gehenna watched with bored eyes as his infant son was carried away by another human.

 _A fucking Exorcist_ he sneered.

Turning away from the sickening sight, he was met with a familiar demonic presence. Face unchanging, he greeted his second-born.

"Samael," he drawled, "my ever-prodigal son, Gehenna greets you, _welcome home_.” His lips lifted into a sneer, "It's been—what? —Three hundred years?"

Ever the most charismatic of his children, the Demon King of Time and Space grinned and bowed rakishly, "Lord Father."

Regally, the superior Demon King sank into his throne. He waved a clawed hand, "Spit it out, son, I'm really not in the _fucking_ mood."

Samael hummed thoughtfully as he straightened, "Of course, Father. I come merely with a gift. An afterthought—if I am honest."

He considered his devious child, "Oh? That is unusually _thoughtful_ , my trickster son. Surely, you wouldn't be trying to deceive _me_ of all demons?"

An affronted look crossed his face, "Come now Father, even _I_ have some tact in such solemn affairs."

Without speaking more, the lesser Demon King merely snapped his fingers.

Satan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Yuri…as her _body_ appeared.

"Unfortunate proof of tragedy, I am afraid."

"I see." Appraising silence then, "And your littlest brother? I see you placed him with that reprehensible Exorcist."

Carefully, Mephisto nodded, "It is true. Though, Shiro more or less propositioned me first. However, if you disagree with the placement, I can make other accommodations."

"Why go through the trouble, son? It is unlike you to be so… _involved_ in my affairs."

Samael, as Mephisto, gave a rare and honest shrug, confusion appearing for a moment, "I guess I admired the woman, in my own way. She wished to bridge the distance between humanity and demon kind.” He smirked, “You do know how fond of humans I can be, Father.”

Throwing his head back, the King of Demons roared in amusement. Something in his chest loosening slightly. The loud racket tapered off into cackling sniggering.

"Ah, well, that is the most honest response from you in a millennium, my boy." He raised his large hand, and Yuri's body vanished.

"You have my thanks—" a taunt aimed at his child, "— _Sammy_. You may return to your precious humans in Assiah. Do be sure to visit again soon, I have so missed our conversations."

Mephisto, slightly grimacing at the childhood reminder, simply bowed and vanished in a pop of color.

Satan chuckled once more before sighing quietly. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he was finally left alone. Eyes thoughtful, then softening, _Yuri_.

/

     The devil appeared with his lover's body in his own private gardens. A place he hadn't set foot inside in a very long time. He was mildly surprised at the quality of his gardens.

_Seems my Earth child has been sneaking in here to maintain the place. I suppose I should reconsider the boy's abilities._

How surprising.

 Waving away thoughts of Amaimon, he raised his hand and formed a catalyst for Yuri's remains. Enclosed in pure diamonds and other gems, Yuri’s tomb was impressive. Frozen in a state where he would be able to see her serene face for all of eternity.

_She merely looks asleep._

He shook his head as anger threatened to consume him again. Turning, he moved to leave, but paused to speak solemnly over his shoulder. Reverently, his baritone echoed throughout the still garden, "I have judged you alone to be worthy out of all your kind, Yuri Egin. You allowed me my own perspective of Assiah—a measure of peace to one as _old_ as I. You gave me another son, for all his humanness, and for that, I have allowed the boy to live as such. You may rest here, and I will keep you as long as creation stands—this I promise, you will never be taken from me again."

Striding forward, the devil did not look behind him again. As he walked, he glanced up, dark bitter amusement coating his bating hiss, "You may have her soul, _your 'excellence'_ , but I will have her youth, **_forever_**."

He pushed away thoughts of Yuri, only allowing himself to consider their child once more. He smirked, all fanged and toothy, "Grow up to be of some merit, _brat_. Your life cost more than you will ever know. Try not to be a complete fuck up, kid. _Daddy_ can't help you anymore."

In a sharp snap of talons and black smoke, the God of Gehenna vanished.


	4. Prelude: Priest’s Lament

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all credit goes to the talented Kazue Katō.

/

**Southern Cross Boys' Monastery, Late January, 1996**

_The wailing of demons_ —attempting another sip from now lukewarm coffee—he shakily missed as the keening outrage grew louder; wincing at the rising decibel, he gave up with a sigh and placed the mug on the counter. He dropped his feet down and slowly rose to his full height with a resigned grunt.

_Come on kid, give me a break! I just changed you! What could possibly have happened in five minutes?!_

His left eye twitched uncontrollably as the boy child, Yukio, took up his sister's call.

As he walked, he ran a hand through his unkempt silver hair. The ends, sticking out every which way, paired nicely with crusting, blood-shot eyes and dark bags. The disarray of his priestly robes—some foul-smelling _stain_ beside the limp collar of his Cossack mockingly completed his disturbed look.

_God above, have I angered Thee?_

Half-way to their lair of doom—

"Nursery. _Nursery_." He muttered distractedly.

He passed through the soothing darkness of the inner sanctuary hall—briefly, the cloying smell of vanilla and earthy sandalwood balm to his frazzled nerves. He turned a sharp corner and pushed open two darkly oaked doors into the bright, wintery-harshness of late January day.

Snow crunched underneath his boots, long-legged strides carrying him quickly across the outer courtyard of the church grounds. The screaming somehow much more prominent here.

_Them lungs are proof they ain't all human. For Christ's sake, I can hear them complete through another building!_

"I never knew creatures more exhausting than Mephisto could exist." he sighed. Following the enclosed curve of the heavily-warded iron fence, his eyebrows raising as he came across Nagatomo and his familiar, Malkin. Both man and scarecrow demon were awkwardly flapping their limbs and taking two absurd half-jumping, halting steps before stopping short. Pausing only a moment before repeating the whole ridiculous circuit.

Stopping, he marveled at the scene before him.

"Nagatomo? What in the name of Assiah are you doing?! Nagatomo? _Nagatomo_!"

His fellow Exorcist continued to wave his arms like a lunatic—ignoring him.

His eyes narrowing suspiciously, Fujimoto reached a hand slowly down into his robes; fingering the cold metal on his inner thigh.

_Is this a possession?_

Thankfully, Malkin, realizing the Paladin's presence, _and his probable lack of clarity brought on by sleep deprivation_ , knocked its mass of sticks, straw, and covered greenery into Nagatomo's unaware form.

"Malkin! Umphh—" a hard grunt as he landed on the snowy ground, " _Ow!_ What are on Eart—!"

He fell silent as his eyes fell on Fujimoto. And Fujimoto's half-cocked gun.

Sweat-dropping, his face reddened, and he sheepishly raised a hand to his ear. He pulled an earplug out guiltily.

"Ah—sorry, Father Fujimoto. I…ah…" He nervously laughed, rubbing a hand behind his head, “I guess I gave into temptation?" he finished lamely.

Fujomoto sighed letting his hand drop. He looked past the dark-brown head of the other priest and nearly choked at the sight.

 _Ya, God is definitely pissed_ he decided.

"Crows."

Fidgeting under the deadpanned expression, Nagatomo nodded uncertainly, "Well, yes? You see, a disturbing number of crows and other large birds have been gathering here over the past few days, Malkin and I were just playing around with ideas how to disperse them….and…uh…yeah…" he trailed off as Shiro's expression never wavered.

Heaving a heavier sigh, Shiro made to turn to leave. He tossed a salute over his shoulder, "Keep up the good work, Malkin."

Malkin grunted its pleasure in a wheezing, high-pitched whine. Shiro heard Nagatomo's cry of disbelief, "Hey! Father Fujimoto! I'll have you know—"

Shiro gave a thumbs-down as he rounded the final corner—disappearing from sight.

Maybe he had been a _little_ petty. But.

 _Serves the bastard right. I can't believe I didn't think of that first!_ he groused internally.

He opened another identical set of doors and stepped inside from the cold. Stomping his boots into the scratchy woolen fiber of the doormat, he walked the short distance down the hall to one last remaining door—

His head throbbed in time to the shrieks emanating from within.

Bracing himself for the onslaught, he twisted the brass doorknob and quietly went in. One eye closing in pain against the noise, he hurriedly made his way to the crib farthest to the right. Wearily, he regarded the screaming infant girl. Fat tears raced down her blood-red face and she squirmed wildly in her fury.

A nervous smile, half-mad with terror—the Paladin cooed as he reached into the crib.

"Rin! Rin! Hush, hush, hey! Daddy's here. _Shhhh. That's my girl_."

Not pausing to consider, he juggled Rin's wiggling body on one shoulder as he swept up the softer—if only by a _miniscule_ —crier of the two twins.

He crossed the room and collapsed into a wooden rocker, slightly sagging in age. He took in Yukio's whimpering as he adjusted him in the crook of his left arm—allowing Rin to drop softly into his right.

"Yukio! Hi! Hi! It's alright big guy! Yes, it is! Yes, it is!"

Mephisto would die of happiness to catch him babbling—desperate and half-hysterical at a barely one-month-old baby.

"Daddy's here! Daddy's here!"

For endless moments, Shiro rocked his twins. A bit frantically at first, _anything to stop the noise_ , then…more slowly—calming. He fell into the familiar rhythm of creaking wood and quieting babies.

A final, exhausted sniffle and then—

Bliss.

Timidly. Quietly. With a bit of reverence—

Shiro tilted his head back tiredly against the polished wood, still rocking gently. Night time, true darkness—just passed the twilight hour, crept in.

And still he rocked.

Finally, voice low and unsure, "I'm sorry, guys. Daddy doesn't quite know how to _be_ a daddy yet, huh?"

Despite the solid reassurance of their warm weight, Shiro felt a chill zing its way up his spine. He forced his eyes up unflinchingly. In the darkness, barely lit by a milky moon, glowing eyes watched him. Staring into the eyes of the familiar—somehow gold and green in the dark. Shiro felt a teasing burn just below his right shoulder. Looking up, he found the **_thing_** gone.

A final shriek ripped the night air—impossibly far away so quickly. Shiro narrowed his eyes and clutched the babies closer instinctively.

Glancing down with dual eyes—shadowy anxiety and fragile hope, Shiro whispered an oath and a prayer.

"Well, guess Daddy will just have to try harder, _huh_?"

_Please, God in Heaven, watch over these babes. In Your Everlasting Mercy, keep them. To be so innocent…victims of mathematical probability and circumstance…a product of tragic familial ties..._

"…It…it… ** _breaks_** my heart, Father." Choking on sudden tears, he confessed into the dark, head dropping. "Surely, this is part of Your plan? In accordance with Your will?!" alone—the seasoned fighter allowed himself to succumb to his latent grief for his _friend_ , the mother of his adopted children. He gasped quietly, tears blurring his vision, "Surely, they have some _chance_?"

Silence met his last harshly whispered question—he closed his eyes against the exhaustion.

" _Please_ , God. I know they are good. They made me love them. Think about that! Someone…like _me_. They were born in Assiah for a reason, I _know_ it."

_The air was thick with his grief for a long while._

Fujimoto Shiro's mind settled into a buzzing trance—the rocking and creaking of wood never interrupted; he and the little ones found a tentative measure of momentary peace.

And up above, he was _heard_.


	5. Speak The Firmament

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all credit goes to the talented Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: Hey ya'll, here is another one for you all. I promise I am still going to update as frequently as I can, but I currently have work and family issues going on, anyhoo, whatever you believe send me some good vibes, hopes and prayers, or whatever positive karma you can, you guys rock my socks. Hope you all enjoy, Ja ne!

/

_In the beginning, there was no beginning…_

_No. No. That won't do_ —

Sharp, purposeful, a decided hand dragged pen across paper—because _really_ who uses something as archaic as parchment and quill anymore?

A snort—

_No distractions, oh ye wanderer of wanderers, my muse. Please._

"I've work to do after all."

_In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth… No, this is not the one, either. Come on, you are capable of more than hackneyed phrases!_

Sweeping eyebrows dimple as eyes slide close in vexation, "You are as overtired as your writing, weary, old fool," eyes crossing, he glares at the chicken scratch before him—he turns, placing a hand to his forehead, "Or, you used to be. I'm no more than a glorified secretary now." he mutters.

 _Sigh_ —exhaling; a forced breath of air quietly rustling papers. The sound reminiscent to what humans ascribe as _wind_ and _breeze_. This was neither _gale_ nor _maelstrom_ but if he was careless; unrestrained—a warning from long ago echoes—

Delicately tipped ears twitch at the ghost of remembrance.

"Ah! So much time spent observing has left you frivolous and nonsensical." he admonishes himself crossly.

"Talking to yourself again brother?"

Turning, neat and tidy ebony strands sway as the air fizzles with his annoyance.

"Raqib _must_ you eavesdrop?"

A careless shrug, "Comes with the job description I suppose."

It took each of his lifetimes of discipline to not bang his head on his writing table. Every. Single. Bit.

"Out."

Eyes rolling, his doppelganger acquiesced with raised hands, "Fine, fine, goodness Atid, no need to be so snippy."

Violet eyes narrowed in warning—

"Okay! Okay! I'm gone, but may I remind you, _Oh Honorable Scribe_ , we—"

 _Please, God in Heaven_ ….

Both brothers paused at the sudden invocation. Twin pairs of violaceous eyes, one widening with surprise—the other, narrowing in speculation. A moment passed—

"What in Elysium…" Raqib muttered looking down in wonder, "A human? How…" In tandem, Atid glanced up, considering, "Yes, most serious this one. At this rate, his prayer will shoot right up to…" he met his brother's bewildered stare, "Oh _my_ …"

Barely there, brittle as glass—fading, _Watch over…_

Sudden silence. Atid furrowed his brow in confusion, _Was that it?_

"No…" Raqib murmured, "Atid…" his words trailing.

The room vibrated, heavy. A stillness in the room about them—no; it was their entire _realm_ that seemed to pause as if waiting for—

_Mercy. Mercy. Mercy._

Slowly, the spoken word rose to twirl around them. A staticky, parroting loop. The whisper reverberated in their skulls growing, writhing, _clawing_ down through their senses—

Raqib gasped, clutching his chest he sunk down into a crouch. Instinctive canines, clenched and piercing found their way through the sensitive meat of his tongue. Atid hissed, rocked backwards—his right hand splayed clumsily knocking papers and knickknacks as his body collided brutally against his desk.

"Surely, they have some _chance_?"

The questioning confusion—raw grief born of anguish; a plea for understanding.

For help.

Borderline accusatory—as only a son of man would dare cry out for relief directly from He who spoke nothingness into somethingness; Creator, Lord of all Existence. God—Kami-sama.

 _I Am_.

A thousand tongues knew Him by a thousand names, but this _one_ human voice called above them all.

A contrite heart—undiluted; the absoluteness of pain—

"A selfless prayer—" shock, a harsh whisper around blooming blood; dark heads strained to listen—

A heartbreak so tangible, so _awful_ , so unconceivably _human_ , that those who felt its presence could not prevent the unbidden swelling of tears.

Trebling, warbling, "…..it…it… _ **breaks**_ my heart, Father…." the sadness dwindled around them an upwards crescendo. There the grief and suffering remained for a long, quiet while.

Shakily rising, Raqib gripped his brother's left arm. He forcefully pulled him upright and there the two listened, breathless—

" _Please_ , God. I know they are good. They made me love them…think about that! Someone…like me. They were born in Assiah for a reason, I _know_ it."

_I know. I know. I know…_

_Please, God…_

The words faded away, leaving only the electrifying remnants of a benediction so powerful it had shaken the firmament of Heaven.

Stupefied, Raqib released Atid's arm, "Atid…what was… _who_ was…"

Dazedly, Atid shook his head. Gathering his wits after a long moment, he stared at the floor beneath his boots; beyond, into the world of humans—Assiah. And his knowing eyes _saw_.

He glanced up, blinked—the makings of absolute wonder blooming across his face.

Meeting the other's befuddled expression, Atid's near feral eyes caused Raqib to back away uneasily, "Er, brother?"

"Fujimoto Shiro," he whispered excitedly to himself, "has just given me the exact inspiration I needed," he seized Raqib by the shoulders, "Do you know what this means?!"

"Ah? No?"

"I'm back!"

Uncaring of the mess, he swept back to his desk throwing himself into his chair. He scribbled madly, somehow refreshed— _Like a newly born angel, as if I have never held a pen to paper! As if I know no words!_

He paused, peering over his shoulder, "Come on, Raqib! Let's get to work! We have the makings of a _masterpiece_ here, quit dawdling!"

Backing away further from the half-crazed expression, Raqib slowly sank into his own chair. _Distance is good for now, I haven't seen him this insatiable in…in…eons._

"Ri-right!"

Together, the two bowed their heads and started recording the beginnings of the end— _fate—destiny—kismet._

Eyes opening in understanding, Raqib whispered, " _Oh!_ "

Excited, quick scribbling filled the room.

_Before there was something and nothing, God, in His infinite wisdom, recognized His loneliness. He desired more, and it simply became. It was. It is to this day._

"Ah, _now_ there is what I was missing!"

_Honesty._

/

     Above—everywhere and nowhere, colors without shades and words without form eddied around the center of creation. Harmony and chaos rejoiced as He took pause—a smile both cruel and kind—spoke in a dual voice of a million tongues—

" _Let it be_."

And all the multitudes _bowed_ in prostration of the Will.

_Almost._


	6. Summons

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all thanks and credit to the talented, Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: Hope you all enjoy! This story is growing into a monster all its own. Even I don't know where it's going. It may be a very slow burn, but I hope you guys stick with me. Thank you, as always, for reading.

Ja ne!

/

**Southern Cross Boys' Monastery, Late October, 1996**

“ _Da-da._ Yukio. _Da. Da._ ”

A quizzical head tilt; an appearance of piqued interest. Something off about the gesture—too mature for a child his age. Face scrunching as he considered his adopted father, Yukio’s mouth parted slightly.

_Is this…is this it?! Come on, don’t fuck this up Fujimoto!_

With bated breath, Shiro slowly enticed, “That’s right, look at daddy! Can you say, d-a-d-a? Da-da!”

If it weren’t for his perpetual lack of sleep, Shiro _might_ have said the boy looked insulted.

“No! No! No!”

His hope ruthlessly crushed. He _hated_ Yukio’s one—

 _And only_ his mind huffed in defeated amusement, favorite word.

A blink of dark sweeping lashes chased the look away—

 _Too pretty for a boy_ Shiro mused.

At nearly ten months old, Yukio was proving to be a conflicting vexation. At times, with that _head tilt_ and _those eyes_ he seemed beyond his years. A natural discernment in them that could not be taught.

Shifting in his chair, Shiro pondered the boy at his feet.

 _You have your mother’s eyes, kid._ His heart ached in his chest, even now. A constant reminder of loss that still stung as sharply as it had that day, nearly a year later.

_The world seems bleaker without you here, Yuri._

The boy’s unusually intelligent eyes stared back, wide-eyed. _Though, when you look at me like that, I can’t help but wonder just who you inherited those expressions from._

“I never saw that _look_ on her face, that’s for sure,” he muttered.

Suddenly, the child smacked his hands against the dark wooden floor. A gummy smile stretched his mouth, revealing two tiny white bottom teeth, just barely peeking through. Bright blue eyes crinkled as he laughed. The giggle high and pleased.

“No!”

Sighing, a charmed smile pulled at his mouth, _Yep. That right there. You refuse to walk, yet you are clever enough to tease me._

Reaching down, he scooped the boy up, settling him onto his knee. Yukio, kicking his legs in joy, gibbered excitedly. “Very funny, Yuki.” Shiro affectionately groused. He jigged the baby on his knees, a high-pitched squeal his reward. He continued to bounce the boy, delighting in the child’s flailing limbs and infectious giggles.

“Someone’s in a good mood—” A loud banging noise, water sloshing distinctively, cut him short. A horrified shriek followed seconds later, _“Rin! Come back here this instant!”_

“DADA! DADA! DADA!”

 _Guess Nagatomo bit off more than he could chew._ His smile was a bit smug, _Serves him right. It’s about time I got payback for that earplug trick._

Tiny bare feet slapped hurriedly against dark oak, quickly approaching, “Daddadadadada!”

Looking up, eyebrow arching at the ruckus, Shiro felt his grin growing despite himself.

_Rin._

_This_ one definitely wasn’t shy about saying it.

Bright and shining, dark blue eyes sparkled in pure joy. A mop of midnight hair, unruly and curling, bounced wildly around a small cherubic face. The tiny whirlwind was naked and wet, barreling straight for him and her younger twin.

Keeping a steadying hand on the boy, Shiro reached out and snagged the wobbly nine-month-old with a practiced grab. Standing, he settled Yukio on his hip as he held the squirmy baby under his left arm.

Rin shrieked with joy as she was held aloft. Tucked like a football, her zeal wasn’t impacted in the slightest.

Fujimoto took a single step towards the bathroom when a soaking wet Exorcist appeared in the doorway. From the opposite direction, Izumi, wearing an apron and holding a spoon in one hand, poked his head around the doorframe of the kitchen.

Cocking an eyebrow knowingly, he teased, “Rin-chan, too much for you, eh, Seishiro?”

 _“Oh, shut up!_ Don’t you have dinner to prepare, Izumi- _chan_?”

“Hey! Don’t insult the cook!”

Shiro shook his head at the arguing two.

_I swear, I am mother-hen to more than just two infants._

At that moment, Maruta stepped in from the chilly Autumn cold. Faintly, he could hear the rattling of leaves as the jolly Exorcist closed the heavy wooden door behind him.

His tired visage brightened instantly, “Oh! Yukio and Rin! Hi! I missed you guys! Father Fujimoto, may I?”

“Sure, have at it.”

Maruta, ever calm and happy, took both children, baritone rumbling, “You guys get bigger and bigger!”

Wet or dry just didn’t matter to him.

“You know,” he chuckled, tossing two squealing babies, “I’m starting to think you two are doing it on purpose.” Heading down towards the twin’s _much_ closer nursery, “I’m gonna hafta keep an eye on you both!” The sound of happy babies faded as the trio disappeared down the long hall.

Before he could relish the break, his cellphone rang. A vein pulsed, as the shrill theme song of _Honey-Honey Sisters_ rang out.

_Ugh, what now, Demon King. How do you always call at just the wrong time?_

Flipping open the device, he nearly sighed in bliss as the annoying trilling stopped.

“Yeah, Mephisto? What’s up?”

“You sound a bit annoyed, dear Paladin. I take it you are enjoying my personal ringtone?” He could practically _feel_ the smirk through the phone.

“Yeah, real _nice_.” Suspicion creeping into his voice, “You never call just to talk, Mephisto.”

“Oh! You wound me Shiro! We’ve hung out plenty of times. Remember when I took you on that day trip?”

“Right. Going to your theme park was just a _blast_. Even considering you made me _pay_.”

“Let’s not get lost in the smaller details, hmm? Anyways, you are right, I did call for a reason. By my timing, Satan’s youngest is about to be ten-months-old, yes?”

Brown eyes widening, Shiro tossed a glance at the calendar on the wall. Tomorrow was the twenty-seventh.

_Shit._

“I do believe it's time to test our wager. Hard to conceive it’s already been that long since we last saw each other, isn’t it? I must say, I am excited to see you both, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!?!”

“Yes! Shall I come to you? I should probably test the barriers anyways.”

Squawking, Shiro shook his head, forgetting the demon couldn’t see him, “NO!” He caught himself, “Ah—no! It’ll be nice to get out and stretch my legs! Your wards are strong! We will come to you!”

“Excellent! See you both then!”

The line went dead. Shiro stood frozen, dial tone blaring in his ear.

He turned his head slightly, peering in the direction of the twins.

_Fuck, I’m not ready for this. It feels like we should have more time!_

His eyes slid closed as he groaned.

He hoped Yukio would make it through tomorrow without being traumatized. Hell, he hoped the same for himself.

_And Rin…what am I supposed to do with her?_

_The Paladin does not live a kind life_ he decided. He groaned again.

_Man, I really need a drag._

 


	7. Devil's Playground

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all thanks and credit to the talented, Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: Sorry for the delay! Thank you all for reading!

Ja ne!

/

            Slender hands, adorned in lilac leather, tightened discreetly. An idle recline of strong chin and soft facial hair; brushing absent-mindedly. Forest-dark; his demon eyes drifted over to the small clock on his desk—an obscure (and rather _lewd)_ female character from one of his favorite anime.

 _Amaimon’s attempt at gift-giving._ It was an unusually thoughtful gesture from the infamously distractible Demon King.   

 _Unusual, but not without purpose._ It was traditional among their rankings, those with lesser power appealed to those with more. Practical and proactive, a reaffirmation of loyalty that, in the Demon World, had surprising success in preventing unnecessary bloodshed.

He tapped hidden claws against the diminutive time piece.

 _It is blatant intent which exposes him._ The fact that the younger Demon King had attempted to present something in the realm of MOE belied his status to the King of Time.

_Ah, little brothers will be little brothers, whether human or demon._

The fact he had seven notwithstanding. A slightly perturbing thought drove one eyebrow into his purple hairline.

_Speaking of, I should start my own celebratory preparations. It’s…November? No, December. Yes! It is most definitely in December, now if I could just recall the dratted day…_

He never _was_ good with birthdays.

Three sharp polite knocks turned his head.

_Ever the perfect gentleman._

“Yes, Belial, you may enter.”

The doors to his inner office opened slightly—soundlessly, on well-oiled hinges. Squinting eyes and a tidy curl of hair appearing—

“Your one o’ clock appointment has arrived Sir Pheles. Would you like for me to send him in?”

The chairman’s eyes flashed as a prominent smile overtook his face, fangs sharp in his too wide grin.

“Of course! It wouldn’t do to reward such promptness with more waiting, now would it? I, being a gentleman myself, would be aghast at receiving such treatment.”

Besides, his favorite human was coming to visit. Loaded down with such _precious_ cargo, he anticipated Shiro being late. Although, truth be told, he still hadn’t _quite_ pegged the surly Exorcist’s predictability.

 _Every true Demon loves a good risk._ That euphoric, exhilarating gamble of avoiding detection! The thrill of vulnerability, near exposure at each and every turn!

 _Yes, Shiro is a wildcard._ He had missed the scamp more than he cared to admit.

_Human beings have a way of inspiring strange attachments. Such fascinating creatures._

Belial nodded curtly, long since accustomed to his inner musings. “Very good Sir. I shall send him in right away. Will you take tea directly after?”

“Yes, that would be lovely. Oh, and Belial, while I am speaking with our guest, will you begin making the usual arrangements? There should be a reminder from last year somewhere—”

A brief pop, smoke lingering—sharp talons delicately procuring aforementioned reminder.

“I have already taken care of it Sir. The day you are inquiring about would be the Seventh of December.”

“Ah-ha!!! I _knew_ it was in December! Excellent, as ever, Belial! That will be all for now, thank you.”

The Butler was accustomed to his King’s convenient forgetfulness too.

“Very good Sir.”

The door closed briskly behind him, and the Chairman was alone again; however brief the moment. Sighing quietly, he swiveled in his office chair, one long leg folding primly over the other. An appreciative smile gentling his expression.

Before him, the large bay windows he so adored exemplified the glory of his playground—the whole of True Cross Academy, and beyond that, True Cross Campus Town.

 _I am a libertine—debauchery in the excessive. I can indulge myself to the fullest here. I will allow no one to impede upon my lustful exploration of this world. Yes, I am of Assiah now; home is much too boring for me._ His smile grew wicked as the air around him fizzled with tendrils of his power—

 _Not even you, dear Shiro. I will find out what you are hiding from me._ It was almost insulting; as if he wouldn’t notice his recently odd behavior. _This little wager of ours is more than a precaution; it is delightful espionage._

A tentative knock encouraged his fangs once more.

A snap of fingers swung wide the doors—

“Do come in, good man! I’ve been expecting you.”

A nervous smile accentuated the patting handkerchief at its corners. The man nearly sweating at the lingering power in the air. “O-oh? I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Mr. Faust.”

“Not at all, Mr.—Todo was it?”

Worry lines crinkled as the Exorcist chuckled tensely, “Yes, that is correct. But please—Mr. Todo was my father, you are high enough in the order to call me Saburota.”

Mephisto twirled his chair to face the man. He stood gracefully, bowing with just a _dash_ of demon flourish. “Heavens no! It would be improper to address you so informally! We’ve only just met, after all! Please, have a seat. Their imported, you know. Only the finest of quality for my guests.”

The Exorcist found himself sitting before the Demon, still nervously smiling and patting at his face, _Oh my._

Mephisto gave a good-natured smile.

It did nothing to reassure the fidgeting male before him. If anything, he looked ready to flee. He resettled in his own plush seat, inwardly crooning in dark delight.

_My. My. What a shrinking violet you are._

He offered a sweet to the Exorcist, smile never ceasing. “Now, shall we get down to business?”

Mr. Todo could only nod in acquiescence.

“Marvelous! Now, let’s start with these rumors I’ve been hearing…”

/

Across town, Mephisto’s gamble was paying off. Shiro was having a _shit_ start to his day.

“Diapers?”

“Check!”

“Hobgoblin?”

“Er—yep. Got it right here. Ne, Father Fujimoto—this toy is a bit scary looking don’t you think?”

“Irrelevant. You know Yukio won’t go anywhere without it.”

“But—”

Shiro threatened with a smile, “ _It. Goes.”_

“Okay! Okay! Yesh— _check._ ”

“Bottles?"

“Check—Rin no! Those are for your brother! _Get out of there right now, young lady!”_

Rin’s indignant wail sent the birds scattering outside.

Shiro sighed.


	8. Baby On Board

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all thanks and credit to the talented, Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: I love me some baby Yukio! Gah! I had a million squee moments writing this.

Ja ne!

/

“No! No!”

“Yeah, you’ve got that right Yuki.”

_People in this town can’t drive for shit._

     Groaning, the Exorcist thumped his head against the steering wheel. As their currently only working vehicle, the junker was a fraud on wheels. Barely admissible as an actual functioning means for transportation. A night of Sake drinking gone awry had left its back end unusually… _crispy._

_Maruta never could hold his liquor._

“Damn them.” Shiro muttered, booted foot stomping the breaks as he was forced to make an impromptu stop.

The patron deity of traffic was _obviously_ taking a personal day.

“Oi!” He grabbed the handle at his left, furiously spinning the manual control to roll down the window. “Can’t ya’ idiots see I got a baby in here?!! What dumbass taught you to drive?!!”

His shaking fist was welcomed with a cheerful middle-finger salute. From the dangling rearview mirror, he watched with twitching eyes as Yukio reproduced the gesture perfectly.

“No! No!” Drooling chirps accentuating his bobbing fist.  The newly ten-month old child imprinting the vulgar form like a zealous worshipper would Scripture.

 _Fuck._ Rin would surely copy her brother.

Head craning backwards, his grin was nervous as he bartered with his son. “No! Yukio, no! That’s a bad…er…sign?” Muttering to himself, he deemed it good enough. “Yeah, sign. That’s not nice! Only rude, _shitty drivers—”_ this, he hissed lowly, “—and mean people do that. Daddy can’t do it, _as much as he’d love to_ , and you can’t either, okay?”

Bright eyes blinked. The baby glancing with interest from his fingers to his father’s pale face.

Shiro held his breath, a white-knuckled grip digging into the worn leather of the steering wheel.

After a moment, Yukio offered, “No?”

Extreme relief flooded his insides as he nodded firmly. “No.”

Squealing with sporadic delight, the boy flailed in his homely car seat, allowing the gesture to drop.

“Nonono!”

 The sigh of reprieve—and the dodged bullet it represented—was interrupted as the car behind him blared its horn.

“Oi! Oi! Get a move on it Gramps! Move that piece of crap! I’ve got places to be!!!”

Eyes bulging behind his glasses, Shiro nearly popped a vein.

_Gramps?! My hairs always been this color!_

“ _Oh,_ for the love of Assiah! Fuck this!”

Yanking the wheel harshly, he forced the car over the descending curb of the road. Speeding down a side-street, his darting glances were wild as he looked for a place, _any place_ , to end this hellish car ride.

_Please, dear God, don’t let this be a one-way!_

Yukio’s excited gibberish echoed down the street—mixing with lingering exhaust fumes and leaving a trail of raised eyebrows in their wake.

Mephisto was somehow to blame for this.  He just _knew_ it.


	9. In-Between Steps

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I give all thanks and credit to the talented, Kazue Katō.

Blurbage: I know the past two chapters have been kind of fillers, but I promise the next one will be a good long doozy. I kind of like writing slow burners, but it is _hard_ to keep the pacing because I have so much planned. Oh well, next update will be in two weeks; as always I really appreciate you reading.

Ja ne!

/

_I’m getting too damn old for this shit._

     Panting, Shiro paused his ascent, perspiring a _bit_ more than he was willing to admit. Slightly bent over, hands on his knees, he glared up at the gleaming pillars of marble. One of many grand archways which were spread out across the whole of the academy. Meticulous and intentional, their placement emphasized the enormous wealth which supported the stacked leviathan which was True Cross Academy. He felt like he had been climbing for ages, but staring up, a bead of sweat running down his face, he was aghast at how _many_ still separated him from his pain in the ass demon. Paired with a fidgeting, excitable baby and a loaded down diaper bag, it was no wonder he felt so winded.

“Motherfu—"

“No! No!”

Caught off guard, Shiro gave a wheezy bark of laughter. “Alright. Alright. You got me, Yukio. I know—bad word. Guess daddy’ll need to drop some money into the swear jar, huh?”

He could feel Yukio’s little legs kicking the air. Snug and secure against Shiro’s back, the baby was greeting the new sights and sounds with vigor reserved only for the very young. 

“No!”

Still chuckling, Shiro began to climb the next bout of stairs, “Well, if you insist, Yuki. Don’t tell Muruta though, okay?”

Yukio’s answering squeal lifted his spirits. He found himself smiling fondly over his shoulder as his foot lifted to begin climbing the next set of stone steps.

_To think, that a child of the Devil himself could make me smile. And so frequently, too. I don’t even think I smiled this much with Shura. What a world we live in._

He still sent up a prayer for strength— _just in case._

He chose not to dwell on asking for the protection of angels; seeing as he was willingly going into the lair of a demon. That was a _whole_ ‘nother level of hypocrisy he didn’t have the brain power for.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get this over with.”


End file.
